


The God Box Paradox

by QueenSabriel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU Season 8, Adventure, Bobby is still alive, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, I give you a hamburger, M/M, Romance, Surrealism, Team Free Will, True Form Angels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-15 13:17:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenSabriel/pseuds/QueenSabriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who knew finding God would cause so many problems? Or that the Trials would get overshadowed by more important things like Kevin's bad handwriting, the closet on the second floor of Bobby's house, what really happened in Mesopotamia, Dean's daddy issues, and angels who are just terrible at handling relationships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In a Handful of Dust

 

“ _Oh oh people of the earth,_

_Listen to the warning the seer he said,_

_Beware the storm that gathers here,_

_Listen to the wise man…”_

                  - Queen “The Prophet’s Song”

 

* * *

 

 

It started with the closet that shouldn’t be there. All their lives, Sam and Dean had adjacent bedrooms in Bobby’s house, with a very solid wall between them. Suddenly there was a closet with a door to each room. If figuring out how to close the gates of Heaven and Hell wasn’t bad enough, now they had architectural features appearing out of nowhere.

Dean stood on his side, looking through the little five-by-five foot space into Sam’s room, where his brother and Bobby stood. “You’re sure you didn’t do this?” Dean asked for what felt like the millionth time.

“I think I’d remember putting in a whole damn closet,” Bobby said, narrowing his eyes. “Not to mention you’ve seen the state of these walls, ain’t no way in Hell anyone could do that in the couple days since you two were last here.”

“I don’t like it,” Dean said.

Sam raised an eyebrow and muttered, “Funny, _you_ being afraid of a closet.”

“What?” Dean growled.

“Nothing.”

It took them a while to admit that no amount of staring at, or pacing back and forth through the closet was going to explain its sudden appearance. The three retreated downstairs for the evening, to watch TV and fall asleep on the well-worn furniture of Bobby’s living room.

As Dean’s eyes began to drift shut at one point, he found himself instinctively reaching out to call to Cas, like he did whenever something went a little too weird. Then he remembered he was supposed to be mad at the angel, and instead made a big show of stretching and saying it was about time for bed.

* * *

 

Despite all his resentment, Dean was not surprised when he came downstairs the next morning to find Castiel standing in the middle of the kitchen talking to Sam and Bobby. Flat-out ignoring the angel’s greeting, Dean made a bee-line for the coffee pot, forcefully exaggerating how he was not ready for any sort of conversation yet.

An awkward silence fell over the kitchen until Sam said, “So, Cas…don’t suppose you’d have any idea how a closet could appear out of nowhere upstairs.”

“Maybe,” Castiel said. “It could…potentially have to do with the reason I came.”

Taking a sip of coffee, Dean muttered into his cup, “Well, that’s one thing you’re good for at least.”

Everyone else chose to ignore that, if they heard it. Bobby started cracking eggs into a pan on the stove. Still surprised by Castiel’s answer, Sam shifted to face him, the legs of his chair dragging noisily on the floor.

“Wait, you what?”

“I was held up because…” Castiel’s voice trailed off a little and he gave a half shrug, “Because we found God. Or rather, I should say we have a much better idea of where He is. He’s…here.”

Bobby turned from the stove rather abruptly. “In my house?”

“No. On Earth. Most likely in the United States, judging from the frequency of abnormal occurrences in the past few days.”

Even Dean looked at Castiel finally, though when he met his gaze, the hunter hardened his expression.

“So what’s the problem?” Sam asked. “I mean, we’ve seen plenty of gods and goddesses in human form on Earth before, they didn’t make things too weird.”

“Gods are just as varied as humans,” Castiel explained. “Ours… _God_ , well, He isn’t three dimensional. Putting Him into a human body would be like if you crushed your Sun down to the size of an acorn, except instead of creating a black hole, this will warp reality itself. Physics and logic will stop working entirely.”

Dean draped one arm over the back of his chair. It was hard to be both angry and curious at the same time, and what he ended up with was sarcasm. “Great, because the tablets weren’t causing us enough trouble, now you want us to play a nice round of _Where’s Waldo: The Salvador Dali Edition_.”

Castiel stared at him, then looked around, first at Sam, who looked at his feet, then at Bobby, who was vehemently dividing scrambled eggs between three plates. Finally Castiel sighed and shook his head. “Dean, I’m trying to…”

“To what? Apologize?” Dean shook his head. “You really think giving us another apocalyptic disaster to deal with is apologizing?! Why don’t you find a way to heal Sam, huh? Or help Kevin. Or _anything_. And since when did Heaven become ‘us’ again?”

Castiel’s expression was bordering pure desperation. “Dean, everyone is in grave danger if this isn’t dealt with.”

“Yeah? Been there. Done that.” Dean leaned back as Bobby moved to set a plate of food in front of him. Glancing up however, he saw a look on the older man’s face that made it seem like he would have much rather just dumped the eggs in Dean’s lap.

* * *

 

As soon as Kevin let them into his latest hideout, he made a valiant grab for the take-out bag in Dean’s hand. All the hunter had to do was stand on his tip-toes to keep it out of reach. “Tell me you found something in your notes.”

“This is _actual_ torture,” Kevin grumbled, taking a long whiff of the pork-fried rice smell as he closed and locked the heavy door behind them. “Also, you know this would go a lot faster if I could just, oh I don’t know, talk to Metatron about everything seeing as he _wrote the damn tablets_.”

“Yeah, well, no one can get ahold of him, usual summoning thing doesn’t work.” Dean wandered into the cluttered room, pushing a few paper cups and empty No-Doze bottles off the table so he could set the food down. He craned his neck a little to try and read some of the notebooks that lay around covered in haphazard writing, but most of it was probably incomprehensible to anyone who wasn’t Kevin.

“I thought you said on the phone that Castiel was back on speaking terms with Heaven,” Kevin said, frowning. “Can’t he – “

Dean looked up in time to see Sam wearily making a slicing ‘ _cut it out’_ motion across his throat with one hand. Kevin dropped into his chair with a sigh and made a helpless gesture, looking very much like he was the one who had just been through the first two demon-tablet trials.

“Weird things’ve been happening,” Kevin said finally. “I think I saw a cat squish itself flat as a piece of paper to get between two crates yesterday, but I might have been dreaming. Also the eggs I got were purple on the inside, so I threw them out.”

“There’s a closet in Bobby’s house that wasn’t there before,” Sam said with a shrug, leaning against the wall.

“It all has to do with this whole God thing, doesn’t it?”

Dean nodded, remaining on his feet mainly because there didn’t seem to be a level surface to sit on. “Seems like. Cas, he uh, says things will just keep getting worse until…I don’t know. It all implodes.”

“I give you a hamburger,” Kevin muttered, then shrugged. “Cuil theory. Sorry.”

“Look, kid,” Dean said. “I know most of your stuff doesn’t even begin to cover this crap. But if there’s _anything_ at all, and I know you’ve got way more riding on you than you should have…Just, if you found anything, you could even give us the notes and we could try to figure it out. Or make Cas figure it out.”

Kevin’s shoulders drooped a little and he went over to a small shelf, pulling out a notebook that looked not quite as filled as the others. He tossed the notebook to Dean. “Here. This is where I’ve been keeping track of anything that seems to be related something outside the trials. Every so often there are references to other tablets and sometimes…people, I guess. Names I don’t recognize. I don’t know if it will actually help you find God or anything, but…”

“Thanks, Kev,” Dean thumbed through the notebook, then sighed resignedly, “Guess I’ll see what Cas thinks of it. You sure you don’t wanna come back to Bobby’s with us?”

“Are you kidding?” Kevin raised his eyebrows. “I’d love to. But you know that’s the first place anyone would look for me, and even after Metatron saved my ass…and, I don’t know how much I can rely on that to happen again. So I’m just going to keep moving, and you two just…keep me updated on your search for God.” At that he started giggling, the lack of sleep clearly breaking through.

Dean tucked the notebook under one arm and pushed the bag of food closer to Kevin. “Okay, well you have something to eat, get some rest…we’ll let you know when we find anything.” He looked to Sam and gave a little nod for his brother to get up and follow him out of the cramped room.

* * *

 

As soon as they got back to Bobby’s, Dean could tell something was wrong. Not wrong as in “God is on Earth so now the trees have ears instead of leaves” wrong, but the sort of anxiety you get when you come home to find the door open just a crack. The front door wasn’t open, but Dean could feel tension in the air as soon as he and Sam stepped inside.

Then they went into the living room and found Crowley sitting on the couch, looking bored. Bobby was in his usual chair, scowling, and Castiel stood just beside Bobby.

“Are you two okay?” Dean growled immediately, glancing at them as he and Sam came to a stop in the doorway.

Bobby snorted and folded his arms over his chest. “We’re fine.”

“I promise, I didn’t hurt a hair on their chinny-chin-chins,” Crowley said, holding his hands up. “As much as I hate to lower myself to age old clichés, I come in peace.”

“Yeah? Since when?” Dean took a few steps sideways, coming to a stop next to Castiel. Sam was apparently too tired to manage that and dropped into the other armchair in the corner.

Crowley produced a glass of scotch out of thin air. He settled more comfortably on the couch. “Since Daddy decided to go off sight-seeing on Earth and not check in. You think you’re the only ones who want him back where he belongs? I’m here to offer a peace treaty in light of recent events. Of course, you’re not the ones I want signing it, but you _can_ get me in touch with your new boss.” Crowley’s eyes drifted to Castiel on the last bit.

“He means Naomi,” Castiel said flatly, not looking at anyone but the demon.

Dean definitely did not like where this one was heading. “Since when is that stuck-up bitch your new boss?” he asked, bristling again as he remembered that he was in fact, still pissed off.

“Watch your language there, squirrel,” Crowley said, thoroughly amused. He took a sip of his drink, eyes sparkling. “You’re talking about one of the most powerful Seraphim in Heaven. Or do you feel the need to call her names because the idea of a powerful female angel tying your boyfriend to a chair makes you feel too emasculated? It’s all right if it does, plenty of better men than you are threatened by the likes of her.”

“Shut up or I’m gonna kick your ass into Purgatory so hard that you leave a crater.”

Crowley curled his lip. “I’m trembling.”

“Okay, okay both of you!” Bobby said, leaning forward in his chair and glaring at them. “There’s plenty of time to flirt later. What’s this proposition you’ve got, Crowley?”

“The fact of the matter is,” Crowley said, “the tablets, the trials, closing the gates…they’re currently irrelevant. I mean, what does all that matter if in a few months’ time all of reality collapses in on itself? Heaven, Hell, Earth…we all want the same thing. We want the big man back in the sky. And what _that_ means, my fine feathered and un-feathered friends, is that we’re all on the same bloody side.”

As though trying to do the demonic equivalent of dropping the mic, Crowley let his now empty glass fall dramatically to the floor. There was a loud shattering sound, but all the glass vanished the instant it hit the wood. Dean wasn’t sure if this was Crowley’s doing, or more of the weird side effects of God-on-Earth.

Castiel slowly shook his head. “Heaven won’t see it that way.”

“All I need is for the Queen Bee to see it that way,” Crowley said. “Now be a good boy and call me once you’ve spoken with her. Toodles.” And with a wink, he was gone.

Dean and Bobby simultaneously snapped around to look at Castiel. “ _What_?”

“Honestly,” Castiel said, moving (much to Dean’s discomfort) to take Crowley’s vacated spot on the couch. “Right now Hell is far more unified than Heaven. What factions of angels that are left…they’re fighting each other. And yes, Naomi is one of the more respected seraphim, but there are a considerable number of others who would rather see her gone. Tariel, Raguel…”

Sam cleared his throat rather weakly. “So, wait. You actually think this is a good idea, don’t you? I thought Naomi was the one who was like…”

“Seriously fucking up your head?” Dean provided.

Castiel pursed his lips and looked out the darkening window for a moment. When he looked back at them, he had drawn his expression in, lost any of the hopelessness from before. In its place was nothing, and that bothered Dean more than when the angel let little bits of emotion show through. “Which causes more damage in the long run?” he asked, eyes coldly fixed on Dean’s. “The monsters that father has to keep in line? Or his children who will stop at nothing to find him?”

“What’s your point?” Dean said through gritted teeth.

“The angels will tear Earth apart if it means finding Him. If we can get Naomi and Crowley to work together, then there is at least a chance of your world surviving this. And Naomi…she is the only angel in Heaven who has an ear open to me.”

Bobby snorted, getting to his feet and shuffling over to get the bottle of whiskey from the desk. “Only cuz she’s been riding your ass these past few months.”

Dean was the only one who caught the look on Castiel’s face, the little sigh he gave as he looked down. Bobby and Sam were too distracted by the sudden sound from upstairs, like someone was dragging furniture around. A moment later all four of them were charging up the stairs, various weapons in hand.

All they found was another door at the end of the hallway. Dean opened it, expecting another closet. This one just opened to the inside of the wall. And again, just as with the closet, this strange new addition gave off an odd, unsettling presence.

“It’s like, uncanny valley or something,” Sam murmured after a while.

Bobby reached around Dean to slam the door shut. He turned to face Castiel, who was lingering at the back of the group. “I can bet you’re going to say that this ain’t nothing compared to what’s about to happen.”

“Think how many living things would be effected if the Sun rose in the west,” Castiel said dully. “Or if the moon were a few hundred feet closer to Earth.”

“This…” Sam dissolved into a coughing fit once again. “This isn’t something we can do on our own, is it?”

Castiel shook his head. “Not this time.”

Dean met his eyes and let out a sigh. “Okay. Fine. But you better find a way to get Naomi to come down here and chat cuz there’s no way in hell I’m risking her taking you again.” And he held Castiel’s gaze, even as they had to shift out of the way so Bobby could drag a heavy side table in front of the strange door.


	2. Fools Rush in (Where Angels Fear to Tread)

 

 

 

“ _And the foundations of the thresholds shook at the voice of him who called, and the house was filled with smoke._

_Then one of the seraphim flew to me, having in his hands a burning coal…”_

-          Isaiah 6:4, 6:6

* * *

 

They left Bobby with Kevin’s notebook the following day and headed out with a trunk full of holy oil to try and get a hold of Naomi. Dean still felt a little iffy about the whole situation, having equal parts distrust and pure desire to punch the angel in her pretty face the next time they met.

“So what, she doesn’t like cities?” Dean asked Castiel when they stopped for gas on their way out of town. Sam stayed in the car, eyes closed, as the other two went inside to pay for the gas and grab some sodas.

Castiel pushed open the door of the convenience store. “Fewer distractions and interruptions will mean an easier time reaching her. Besides, where we are going is a sort of pre designated meeting place.”

“Hot spot for angelic wifi,” Dean muttered. He steered Castiel towards the cooler at the back of the shop. They had been contemplating various soft drinks for a few minutes before Dean said out of nowhere, “And don’t think this means you’re off the hook. I’m still mad at you.”

Castiel’s shoulders drooped. “I am not sure what you expect me to do about that.”

“You’ll figure something out.” Dean grabbed two bottles of coke and turned back to Castiel. He froze. Something was wrong with the windows behind the angel. Outside, the colors suddenly became too bright, too oversaturated, like whoever held the cosmic paintbrush had gotten a little too Photoshop happy. The grass was a sickly shade of lime green, the red of the gas station sign burning bright.

Then the door opened to let a little old man in, and everything went back to normal.

Exchanging a confused look with Castiel, Dean brought the sodas up to the front. “Did you see that?” he asked the sullen young man behind the register. “With the windows a second ago?”

“Yeah?” The kid raised his eyebrows. “What about it?”

“That didn’t strike you as, I don’t know, _weird_?” Dean asked.

The kid shrugged. “They’re windows,” he said, as though that explained it. “You payin’ for gas too?”

As he pulled his wallet out, Dean glanced over to say something to Castiel, but he was too absorbed in his examination of the tank of feeder fish on the counter. So Dean paid for the gas and sodas, then tugged on the back of Castiel’s trench coat. “Come on, featherbrains, let’s get this done with…”

They turned to go, Dean practically dragging Castiel from the fish, when behind them he heard the boy at the register mutter something that sounded too much like “Faggots.”

Dean spun around. “Excuse me?”

Except there wasn’t a pasty, pimply faced teenage boy there now, it was a young woman with dark skin, wearing a tie-dye tank top under her blue uniform vest. She smiled when Dean looked at her. “Was there something else?”

“No I just –“ He looked around, wondering if the other kid had just wandered off. But the tiny store was empty. “Nothing. Sorry. Thought you said something.”

“Have a good day, guys!” she said, waving as they exited.

Hurrying back to the Impala, Dean glanced over and saw that Castiel looked just about as baffled as he felt. Maybe it _was_ about time that he put the whole being angry on hold for a bit. Slipping behind the wheel, Dean gave Sam’s shoulder a shake. “Never thought I’d say this, but let’s go get Naomi down here.”

* * *

 

Castiel hadn’t told either of them what was in the bag he put in the trunk, exactly, just that it was a collection of items to summon Naomi. He hefted the ratty looking bag over one shoulder, leading the way into the abandoned warehouse while Dean followed with two jugs of holy oil and Sam followed with himself.

Without much explanation, Castiel dragged a large empty crate to the center of the space and started pulling cups and bits of bones and feathers out of his bag. Dean saw Sam had made himself comfortable on an impossibly large pile of old newspapers. Shrugging, Dean set down the jugs of holy oil and went to sit next to his brother.

“How are you holding up?”

“Kinda feel like I’ve got the flu,” Sam said, rubbing his forehead.

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” Dean said. “You don’t look like you’ve got the flu.”

Sam blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah, no, you look like you’ve got the black plague.”

“Gee, thanks,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. He gave Dean’s shoulder a feeble punch.

“Anytime.” Dean grinned, but it felt rather forced. “Look, maybe you should just hang back here when Heaven’s boss lady gets here.”

“She’s going to be stuck in the circle, Dean. I’m not too worried.” Sam coughed, struggling to keep it from sounding as bad as it really was. When the fit subsided he cleared his throat and asked, “So you gonna let up on Cas now?”

Dean scowled. “Thought that’s what I was doing.”

“Dean…” Sam gave him a pointed look.

“It’s ready!” Castiel called, looking back over his shoulder at them. Dean got to his feet and offered Sam a hand.

They found that Castiel had drawn a large symbol on the top of the crate in white chalk. Various parts of it had small objects lying on them: a shedded snake skin, a small baby food jar with what looked like two bees buzzing around inside, some flowers, seeds, feathers… Dean gave Castiel an odd look but shrugged. He picked up one of the oil jugs and moved to make a large circle of the oil in front of the odd little altar, with a line of it leading back to them.

Castiel nodded and leaned over the silver chalice that stood in the middle of the sigil, then began to mutter, “ _Zoad-ahmah-ray-ah Ana-tee-ha-ee-ay-lah…”_

As he continued, Sam and Dean looked at each other. Somehow, Dean had always thought that an angelic language would sound, well, angelic. Not like a cat choking on something.

“I always wondered, maybe it sounds better in his true form’s voice,” Sam whispered.

Dean winced. “Dude, I heard his real voice and it almost broke my eardrums.”

Castiel’s chanting stopped and he looked back at them with a slight frown. Then all three of them snapped to attention as a rush of wings filled the warehouse. Naomi now stood before them, and Dean didn’t give her a chance to even open her mouth before he knelt and set the holy oil alight.

“Really?” Naomi said, looking down at the flames like they were a dirty puddle she had just stepped in. She looked back up at them. “You know, if you just wanted to talk…”

“We wanted to talk without you just popping off if you didn’t like what we were saying,” Dean said.

Naomi narrowed her eyes a little, then looked to Sam. “Well, I finally get to meet the younger Winchester…” Something crossed her face as she took in Sam’s haggard appearance, but it was only the vaguest hint of emotion. Then she looked back to Castiel and Dean. “I do assume you wanted to actually talk, and not just kill me.”

“Not yet at least,” Dean said before he could stop himself.

To his surprise Naomi laughed quietly. “I knew there was a reason Michael liked you. Okay. I’m obviously not going anywhere. Talk.”

“Crowley asked me to speak with you,” Castiel said. “He wants to negotiate a treaty. To work together until we find God.”

At the mention of Crowley’s name, Naomi had pursed her lips and bit at the inside of her cheek. In the harsh under-light of the flames, it gave her a more angular and far less pleasant look. She took several steps forward, coming dangerously close to the circle of fire.

“Why does that pathetic excuse for a little snake think that I would even consider an agreement with him?” She snarled.

Dean stepped up beside Castiel. “He seemed pretty desperate.”

“Well I’m not. Not that desperate at any rate.”

“Then promise us that Heaven won’t tear apart Earth,” Sam said. “Promise your brothers and sisters, or you, aren’t going to destroy our world. We’ll let it go. We’ll tell Crowley to shove it.”

Naomi looked at him stonily. Then she let out a breath and closed her eyes, turning away for several beats. “Eight years ago I might have,” she said, opening her eyes but still looking away from them. “But not with the way things are now.”

“You’re afraid…” Castiel said, though his voice was barely more than a whisper.

And it was the fact that Naomi took so long in responding that had Dean actually starting to worry. Angels might be some of the biggest dicks in the universe, and _this_ angel in particular may have given him more than enough reason to just utterly obliterate her, but the fact that even he could see that Naomi – however briefly – looked _scared_ , and that Castiel too looked scared, had Dean completely rethinking things.

“What were Crowley’s ter-”  Naomi stopped mid-sentence. Both she and Castiel turned sharply towards the other end of the warehouse, like a pair of cats who had heard something in the next room. Naomi even winced in a way that made it look like she was baring her teeth. “Put out the flames!”

Dean scoffed. “You think we’re stupid?”

She looked at him, her eyes seeming to blaze brightly for a split second. “Trust me, you’re going to want me to be able to move.”

Castiel tossed a fire blanket to Dean, who used it to douse part of the flames just before the huge sliding doors to the warehouse were thrown open with a bang. The rest of the flames died away, and Dean wasn’t sure if that was Naomi, or simply the gust of wind that blew in with the opening of the doors.

The man who had thrown the doors open looked and walked like he was stepping off the cover of _Vogue_ , all perfect features and shining dark eyes and black hair. Even without the fire burning the huge warehouse was brightly, almost harshly lit, though they couldn’t tell where the light was coming from. And Dean didn’t need any flashes of lightening revealing shadowy wings to know this smug looking bastard was one of Heaven’s finest.

As the new angel walked towards them, Naomi circled like a wary lioness, coming to stop beside the Winchesters and Castiel. Specifically Castiel. Almost like she was protecting him, and this baffled Dean.

“Raguel,” Naomi said when the new angel drew closer. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you, dear sister,” Raguel said, his smile full of perfect, even white teeth. “We have things to do and no one could figure out where you’d slipped off to…”

“Castiel needed to speak with me urgently, as Ion would have told you…”

Raguel’s lip curled. “Yes, well, we don’t really like Ion, now do we? And besides, it’s a bit pathetic that you let yourself be ordered around by such a lesser…I suppose he’s still technically an angel.”

“What a dick,” Dean muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

The look that Raguel shot Dean made it very clear that he had heard that. He turned slowly back to Naomi. “Do not take too long, Anathiel, it’s not as though we can start without you.” He turned and vanished.

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Anathiel?”

“Naomi is just a nickname,” she said, her shoulders sagging a little. “Like ‘Cas.’ Or ‘Anna.’” Naomi fell silent then, biting her lower lip thoughtfully and staring at the floor. Just when the silence was drawing out to a point where Dean wondered if he should say something, Naomi looked up again and said quietly, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Castiel tilted his head.

“Tell Crowley that I’ll talk with him.”

Castiel nodded slowly, then said, “Before you go…” And when Naomi looked at him curiously he pointed at Sam.

“Oh…” For a split second she looked something close to remorseful. Then she shook her head. “What the trials are doing to you, I doubt there is anyone who could fix it entirely.” She walked over and touched two fingers to Sam’s forehead, her hand glowing with blueish Grace for a brief second. “The best I can do.”

“Uh…” Sam blinked at her in surprise, color already returning to his face. “Well, thanks…”

Naomi smiled, and then went the same way as Raguel.

* * *

 

In the car, Dean sat with his arms resting on the steering wheel. Beside him, Sam was staring out the window at the strange clouds that roiled across the sky. Castiel was doing the same in the backseat. They were all silent, pondering what had happened in the warehouse.

“In the Kabbalah,” Sam said, breaking the silence in the Impala, “Anathiel is known as the Queen of Heaven.”

Dean looked at his brother, and at Cas. “Are we really going to trust her? Or are we just going to hook her and Crowley up and then step back?”

“This isn’t something we can do on our own,” Castiel murmured, echoing Sam’s words from the previous day.

“And you’re okay with working with an angel who dug around inside your head without giving a fuck?” Dean asked, now turning around as fully as he could in his seat.

Castiel looked down at his hands. “Everything Naomi did,” he said, “Including what she did to me, she did to protect her home and her family. You two have tortured and killed to protect each other. What she was doing is no less.”

Dean started up the Impala, and over the revving of the engine he muttered, “We’ve tortured and killed to protect you too.”

* * *

 

They got back to Bobby’s later that evening, and filled him in on everything that had happened. When Dean added in the bit about what happened in the gas station, the older hunter snorted.

“I’ve had the TV on all day and it’s been like that,” he said. “People talk about this weird shit going down, but not anymore than they would a normal crime. They talked about how there were some delays in Grand Central Station due to all the clocks melting. The delays had them worried, but no one seemed to give two shakes that the clocks were fucking _melting_.”

Dean found himself glancing up towards the clock over the mantelpiece warily.

“And then there was Mrs. Willis down the street, sayin’ something about how her granddaughter had to get stitches when the raccoon in her lunch bag bit her. And I was staring at her and asked ‘you don’t find a raccoon in a kid’s lunch bag a little strange?” But she just laughed…” Bobby shook his head. “Anyway, been cross referencing Kevin’s notes with some old physics textbooks I got outta the library…”

Leaving Bobby and Sam to debate the more scientific details of what was going on, Dean took his bottle of beer and went to sit out on the front steps. The strange clouds had scattered, leaving the sky clear, color fading as the sun sank. At least it was still setting in the west.

Behind him the screen door banged shut, and Castiel sat next to Dean, mimicking his elbows-on-knees posture. “Yes, I am,” Castiel said.

“What?” Dean looked at the angel, wondering if the weirdness of the world was starting to get to him.

“You were going to ask, in some form or another, if I’m absolutely sure I’m okay with this,” Castiel said. “I was just saving you the trouble.”

Dean laughed and took a sip of his beer. “Fine. Then I’m going to tell you, yeah, we are.” And then, because Cas just stared at him blankly, he added, “We’re okay, Cas.”

The wind played in the grasses. Somewhere down the road a cow mooed, and a passing truck disturbed a group of wild turkeys.

Castiel got slowly to his feet. He walked down into the front yard, head craning back to look up at the sky. Dean followed, frowning a little as he too gazed upwards. For a moment he thought they were looking at a flock of birds, but for their size and wingspan they would have had to be albatrosses at least. And then Castiel confirmed Dean’s unspoken worry.

“Angels,” he murmured. “This is what they couldn’t start without Naomi. They’re beginning their search.”

 


End file.
